


That's Not You

by abovetheskies



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Baking (of course), Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, House Stark, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other, Reunions, The Kingsroad - Freeform, Winterfell, direwolves, even I don't know what's coming next really, only these two do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 03:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11683509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheskies/pseuds/abovetheskies
Summary: An unexpected reunion leaves Arya Stark with a long-lost friend and her new companion with nostalgic curiosity. All Hot Pie knows is that despite his love for baking and his work at the Crossroads Inn, he wants to accompany his old friend during her journey to Winterfell and make sure she sees home again.





	That's Not You

**Author's Note:**

> Arry and Hot Pie's reunion was so short and sweet that I could not resist. That is all. 
> 
> Despite the sad title, this story will indeed be a happy one :) This is a gift for my best friend Mimee!

The rustling of leaves, now soft instead of ominous, left Arya somewhat disappointed. She had never been so sure of the prospect of returning home, back to Winterfell, back to being the younger daughter of Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, with her loyal direwolf by her side-

but Nymeria- if that had indeed been Nymeria ( _surely_ it was, Arya could easily recognize those silvery-grey eyes)- had turned away and left. Grown up and left to lead a pack of her own, stronger and fiercer than she had ever been before. Heaving a long sigh, Arya returned to her position by the now dying fire, crouching down and tending to it half-sat on her knees, feeding the greedy little flames with dry twigs and leaves. Just as she had begun pondering over the meditative task, she was startled slightly by another rustling, a snap of a particularly large twig- and a distinctly male voice.

"Who are- what are you doing here, Hot Pie?"

The protectiveness was quickly replaced by a feeling of pure surprise, and Arya had to remind herself to sheathe her sword in front of a friend who didn't deserve any of that hostility. A moment too late, as Hot Pie seemed to almost drop his pack in shock.

"What have you got that for? Were those _wolves_ back there?" Hot Pie exclaimed, half in shock and half in awe, waiting for her to step aside before allowing himself into the decently-sized campsite and un-shouldering his pack. Arry. _Arya._ By the Gods, she really was a Stark, a Lady of Winterfell, and the direwolves of her House's sigil were _real_. Those creatures had certainly been as large as the stories told. The thought was something marvelous to behold, though a sudden cold breeze quickly brought the young man back to reality. "I came for dinner," he said simply, reaching into the pack and bringing out two large skewers and a satchel of something that smelled extremely appetizing.

Arya watched her friend with amusement as he poked at the fire with experienced hands, nodding with satisfaction at its heat before revealing a selection of savoury and sweet pasties- half-moon portions that must obviously be a delight, judging by Hot Pie's excited expression. "Isn't there work to be done at the inn? It was crowded earlier," she asked, eyebrow raised out of curiosity. The Inn at the Crossroads was a popular place for travelers, and it had been quite busy at midday. Full of hungry guests and the occasional good-natured drunk.

A shrug and the fragrance of a hot, homemade meal was given in answer. _Freshly baked_ pasties then. 

"Masha lets me off every other night, and I've got the rest of the week to my own as well." Hot Pie carefully flipped the skewers, the side of the pastries facing away from the fire now deliciously brown and crisp. No wonder they'd called him 'Hot Pie' growing up an orphaned child- his skill in the culinary arts was certainly impressive (Arya couldn't help the involuntary growl of her stomach as they began conversing) like no other. But now something else piqued her interest... "-thought I'd bring some food for your journey home. Seemed a long one, if you know what I mean."

The innocent smile on his face was communicable. Arya found herself smiling and letting her old friend sit next to her with surprising ease. Having been alone, or surrounded by those who found her very existence a suspicious fact, made this moment a well-needed reprieve. Hot Pie offered her one of the skewers, fishing a flagon of the same ale she'd drank earlier out of his pocket and handing it to her as well.

"So you're going to come all the way to Winterfell? It's a few days' ride from here." Arya's gaze left his for a moment as she took an eager bite into a savoury pasty, relishing in its strong flavour and the crisp of the browned, buttery crust. "This is delicious, by the way. You'll have to teach me sometime." He swallowed a bite of his own before turning towards his friend once more.

"I'm a baker, I can hold a knife pretty well." Hot Pie's answer came with an innocent smile and the most carefree of simple shrugs.

"So what's it like in Winterfell?"


End file.
